Sylvanas Windrunner: Mak'Gora
by The Nickname
Summary: As the new Warchief of the Horde, Sylvanas finds herself at odds with her own people. The conclusion shall decide who truly deserved the title of Warchief and the overall fate of the Horde. Rated T for violence and cursing. Reviews are encouraged.


The summon had been sent several days prior to this moment, but all had anticipated the outcome following this vital negotiation. The royal and cultural representatives of the Horde had been encouraged to participate in this matter, or to at the very least make an appearance. All had eagerly, yet cautiously, sought their individual journeys from their beloved homelands to gather together at the Horde's capital.

The orcish stronghold of Orgrimmar. The foundations of the Horde's efforts in their war against the Alliance, and what could loosely be considered the jewel of the Durotar deserts. This city had a long history of warfare against many foes, though rarely had an enemy from within ever been thought a possibility. Honour above loyalty was the moral code amongst many of the Horde; but with recent events, and a drastic change in governmental representation, this was likely to change.

This summon and the meeting that would entail shall decide whether these changes would be for better or worse. And as the new Warchief of the Horde, Sylvanas Windrunner would need to stand her ground as the ideal leader in these dark times. Among the Horde, her ideologies and tactics have far from coincided and had made her the subject of much controversy.

Several days would pass until she had eventually landed in Kalimdor and attended the ensemble within Orgrimmar. Despite her confidence in her abilities, it must be admitted that her Undercity's isolation from the majority of the Horde's bulk proved to be a hindrance on their collective efforts. Nevertheless, upon her arrival, she was transported to the city and awaited arrival before the Warchief's planning room within the Valley of Strength.

Upon her arrival, the orcish guards made no motions as they observed her, offering all they needed to in terms of their respect for the Banshee Queen. It was not rare for her to receive less than ideal welcomes from members of the other Horde races, and even less so to receive it in her newly appointed position of power. Even so, it was discouraging to consider, as she had become satisfied that she was forever incapable of proving herself to her own allies.

She entered the chamber and made her way to the central room, where stood both the Warchief's throne and the banquet table in which they'd celebrated their victory against the Burning Legion. Her eyes scanned across the table at the familiar faces seated in their respective positions, each of them staring upwards from the table as she passed them by. She followed the left side of the table until she finally reached the vacant seat at the opposing end of the room, reserved especially for her.

Five and a half pairs of eyes were on her at all times, clearly itching to get to down to business as much as she was to get the situation over with. As she sat, her eyes continuously shifting between different table members, she awaited another to explain the meaning of her summoning. Shortly, one of her consultants stood up from his chair, a Horde leader with an attitude that heavily opposed hers in more ways than she could ever imagine.

"I speak for the Horde when I say that I am concerned for our future" the booming voice of the honourable Varok Saurfang began. He soon continued "War against the Alliance is once again imminent, especially over this Azerite that the goblins have been collecting". Varok placed has hands on the table as he concluded "The other Horde leaders have agreed. It's time you stepped forward and discussed you're intentions for the Azerite with us… Warchief".

Sylvanas sneered, having loathed this inevitable moment, the integrity of her secrecy once again being threatened by this demand. She knew the Horde would be suspicious of her admittedly unsubtle obsession for the anomalous mineral, alongside her developing companionship alongside the goblins. Still, it was possible to offer an explanation that would satisfy her allies' curiosity, without providing any consequential details.

"As your Warchief, you would know that it is my intention to provide mutual benefit in my people… _our_ people" Sylvanas explained calmly. She rested her elbows against the table and crossed her fingers, "But I have always seen room for improvement, room for sacrifice in order to maintain our powers". Her red eyes glistened faintly from beneath her black cowl as she stared blankly at her consultant, "Changes will be made to ensure the Horde is fit for the impending threat it faces".

Varok snarled as he considered the symbolism behind this conclusion, and was practically repulsed by the notion. "The Horde are an honourable people. I will not have that honour and our reputation forsaken by a…. forsaken" he lectured. Invisible to her allies, Sylvanas rolled her eyes and responded "The Horde can no longer be the same Horde that you remember, Saurfang. Our allies are expanding their resources and their methods, so _we_ will need to do the same".

"Be that as it may, Sylvanas" spoke Baine Bloodhoof from Varok's left, "But what would you be willing to sacrifice in order to ensure victory?" Sylvanas offered a sneer that all were capable of seeing, "It's not just for victory, Baine; hundreds of innocent lives are at stake. Such is the nature of war, but it is no less vital for us to defend our people". But then unexpectedly, her sneer quickly shifted to a smirk, "Or would you refuse to defend your people solely because they cannot defend themselves?"

Baine huffed but became silent, visible insulted by such a claim. To reinforce his colleague, Varok continued on his behalf "We don't expect you to share our honour, Sylvanas; but we expect you to respect it. We have to prove to the world, to both allies and foes alike, that we will bring a greater future than the Alliance". Sylvanas rubbed her temple in frustration and pondered her response in silence.

"I like to believe that _I_ was made the Warchief for a reason; for the longest time, I could not fathom what that reason could've been" she explained solemnly, "The forsaken and the blood elves have been the misfits and have often undermined what the Horde represent". Sylvanas then clenched her fist, "But I have begun to believe that I have a reason far above _all_ of you to be the Warchief".

Suddenly, beyond what any of the Horde leaders could expect, Varok Saurfang stood from his seat and slammed his fist against the wooden surface. "What are you suggesting Sylvanas?! The Orcs, the Tauren and the Trolls have been representing the Horde for decades now, and our leaders have always earned respect!" He inhaled and relieved an irritated growl "I won't let you blemish the names of our great heroes with your deceit and trickery".

With negotiations rapidly breaking down, Sylvanas stood up from her seat and retaliated "Heroes?! _Heroes_ aren't what steered the Horde to where it is now!" Sylvanas pulled her hood back and freed her features from the confines of darkness, "Only hatreds of the past… And fears for the future! Honour is only an excuse to live the exact same way forever!" Sylvanas' eyes smouldered as she glared at Varok, "Were you to have your way, Varok, the Horde would have suffered a humiliating defeat long ago".

Unprepared for the boldness of her claim, Varok made his horror and aggravation clear as he slammed his fist into the table. "For the first time, I've begun to agree with you, Sylvanas" Varok snarled, "Vol'jin should never have made you the Warchief! You are nothing but a parasite, just like those stinking rotted drones you call allies". Miraculously unfazed by his mounting aggression, Sylvanas spat "And I assume you proclaim yourself the ideal Warchief?"

"I would give up everything to protect my people!" Varok roared in response, "Just as Thrall or Vol'jin would've!" To his left, Baine soon rose from his seat and added "As would I. All debts are to be paid by my people to those whom it is earned". Sylvanas watched as the others nodded in clear agreement and collective disregard to her obligations. Varok then concluded "In truth, Sylvanas; not only me, but _everyone_ at this table has earned the name of Warchief more than you ever have!"

"In the eyes of an outdated and decrepit culture" Sylvanas pressed on, refusing to allow this insolent brute to gain any ground against her. "You are all courageous and clearly take your people's interests to heart!" she explained, "And _that_ is your greatest weakness! You restrain your methods, your intentions…" Sylvanas raised her hands in the air to symbolise the extent of the situation's severity, "Do you really believe that our enemies would restrain themselves the same way _you_ do?!"

"I would sooner watch the Horde crumble before I would ever let you turn it into a cesspool for your vile schemes!"

A faint echo of these words remained in the chamber for a brief moment, only for the following silence to allow reflection on its possible symbolism. All eyes turned to face the Warchief herself, whose face wore the faintest sign of a scowl. "That's why I must ask you, Varok" Sylvanas sneered through her clenched teeth, "Would you be willing to sabotage the entire Horde just because of what you believe?"

"I've heard enough!" Varok huffed in disgust, "You will never be my Warchief, elven witch!" The orc barbarian leaned forward against the table and pointed directly at her, "You will not break my honour and turn the Horde against eachother! You're failings as a leader come to an end, witch!" His pointed finger curled into a fist as he yelled "I challenge you to Mak'Gora!"

This situation had escalated beyond what the other Horde leaders could ever have anticipated, much less have prevented. This conflict and the chance of war within their society would be disastrous for the relations between races, though neither leader seemed intent on conceding. As they observed the pair, both Saurfang and Sylvanas gazed silently upon the other, allowing the atmosphere to reinforce this drastic escalation.

Contrary to the Orc commander's expectations, Sylvanas' features shifted into a grin of excitement as she asked "Mak'Gora… for the title of Warchief and rulership of the Horde?" Varok offered little more than a single nod in confirmation. A silence lingered in the air, the Horde leaders and practically the entire room waiting under bated breath for the Warchief's answer.

"I accept".

Were they not preoccupied with the rising tension within the room, the table members would have been utterly astonished by this response. Sylvanas, a woman with a reputation of deception and dishonour, agreeing to fight Saurfang in an honourable conflict. It was virtually impossible for Sylvanas to be victorious, so long as she abided by the restrictions of Mak'Gora.

"In fact" Sylvanas then added, "I'm willing to gamble with you, Saurfang". Saurfang's eyebrow rose in an expression of both suspicion and curiosity. "If you can defeat me… you have my permission to kill me" Sylvanas stated, "And then I encourage you to eradicate my forsaken and cleanse the Horde of their presence". Sylvanas' smile could not be mistaken for anything other than pure lunacy, "And thus, the Horde will be restored to its former glory".

This was pure madness. A death wish. How could this woman possibly offer such a bargain? The Horde leaders and especially Varok predicted a greater intent behind this, possibly an unknown scheme that would be effected by this conflict. Sylvanas was up to something, that much would have to be certain; one would have to tread carefully to ensure her plot cannot be accomplished, no matter the context.

"Very well. Prepare for your retribution, Sylvanas".

* * *

For every possible reason, Sylvanas should have been terrified. All of the odds were infinitely stacked against her and the consequences would be so horrendous, none could possibly comprehend it. She had to make sure that this confrontation tipped in her favour by the end, much less earned the cooperation of the Horde allies she had yet to convince.

Mak'Gora would take place in Orgrimmar's arena, the same arena wherein prior Warchiefs have combatted for mastery of the Horde; The Ring of Valor. Both combatants had agreed upon this location and were establishing the rules of the fight, intending to find a suitable means of fair combat that met both fighters' requests. Unlike what Varok expected, Sylvanas seemed absurdly compliant to his terms, despite the obvious disadvantage she seemed to have.

It was eventually settled that neither combatant would possess any form of battle armour, nor were they to be armed with any forms of weapons. As it was, the battle would be decided solely by physical prowess and combat techniques in hand-fighting. From these choices, it was clear that the odds were definitely in Varok's favour, being naturally the biggest and strongest of the pair. But the Orc and his colleagues' astonishment, Sylvanas agreed to the terms and swore to fight in unarmed combat.

How exactly did she intend to be victorious in this battle? Why is she so willing to place herself at such a disadvantage? She wouldn't dare cheat. She couldn't, or else the entire Horde would rise up in arms against her. Has she actually gone mad? Was she willing to die? What possible reason could there be for her absurd and ludicrous behaviour.

All of these thoughts and many more were reeling through Varok's head as he entered the ring, standing before the gates which lead to an ironically unpredictable outcome. Despite his uncertainty, he had sworn to fulfil his duty and would not care less if he were to die in this conflict, just as long as it was in the Horde's service.

The gates finally began to rise and he passed underneath, stepping onto the cold and unstable sand that had seen many battles in the past. His eyes scanned across the dark room and over the audience, cheers and cries of orcs ringing out and flooding the ring with his name. He found it reassuring that what seemed to be a majority of the audience were supporting him in this conflict. As his eyes descended to the opposing end of the arena, they finally fell upon his opponent.

Sylvanas, as agreed, wore no significant body armour, and instead had donned an outfit consisting entirely of black leather. A combination of a black vest and leggings were worn to conceal her chest and her legs, leaving only her forearms and her midriff exposed and vulnerable. Alongside these were a black pair of boots that lacked her favoured high heels, possible in preference for use in melee combat. While clearly not as exposed as Varok was, he could sense that a multitude of well-placed blows would bring an end to her war crimes.

As was decided, she was unarmed and simply stood before her aggressor, entirely motionless. Her red eyes shone as they pierced her opponent's own, a combination of anticipation and confidence evident in them. It was clear that she had assumed a defensive stance, and was now awaiting the oversized buffoon to make the first move. The audience grew silence as Varok roared his battle cry, before charging ruthlessly to his victory.

If only fate was as kind.

He swung his left fist with all his might, savouring the thought of the elven bitch collapsing in a pool of blood. Unfortunately for him, Sylvanas had anticipated his attack and avoided it, in a way that would affect the atmosphere of the fight from that moment onwards. She became enveloped in black mist and shifted into her banshee form to avoid the strike, a tactic that had been prohibited prior to the battle.

She had cheated. Mere moments into the fight, and she had already disgraced herself in the face of the Horde. Despite this, the knowledge of her dishonourable methods had made her a force to be reckoned with. Varok found himself both surprised and oddly satisfied with this outcome, due to how quickly Sylvanas display her true colours to her people. Unfortunately, the orc found himself vulnerable in the time it took him to recover from his initial attack.

He turned and attempted to get his bearings on Sylvanas' next tactic, only to immediately find himself blinded as Sylvanas kicked sand in his eyes. Stumbling backwards, Varok roared in pain as he turned to his hearing to aid him in his conflict. But just as quickly as he lost his sights, his hearing was unbearably bombarded by the sound of the Banshee's wail.

The entire audience were sent stumbling with their ears covered tightly under their hands, crying from the torment they felt from this horrendous onslaught. With his eyes and ears handicapped, Varok was now at the mercy of the Warchief, but this didn't stop her from breaking yet another law of this conflict. As his senses began to recover, the Orc commander felt a tight, yet oddly thin grip surrounding his throat.

His sight returned, and he found himself laying upon the sand in the arena, Sylvanas standing above him. Apparently, she had smuggled in a steel wire and had looped it around his neck, threating to rip his throat open if he made any motion. "If you move a muscle, you will die" she threatened, displaying her advantage with the merest tug as his breath became ragged. Sylvanas stood and placed both ends of the long wire in one hand as she turned to face the outraged audience.

All onlookers were in disbelief of what had transpired, and were fuelled with rage at how their culture and their very lifestyles had been forsaken by this tyrant. None could see the method in her madness, and none intended to try; and instead settled that the destruction of this false icon was the appropriate solution. But now, as Sylvanas' eyes glistened upon her people, their recently rebellious voices became silent as she spoke.

"This is how the Alliance will defeat us" she yelled to her people, before falling briefly silent as her words left their impact. All were left to consider the symbolism behind this, before she quickly spoke up again. "It has been many years, and the Alliance's power has expanded beyond our own" she explained, "Not simply in strength, but in a factor more vital to victory…". She turned downwards to face her defeated champion before she concluded her sentence.

"Versatility".

The audience began murmuring amongst eachother by this time, but fell silent again once she continued her explanation. "With the dwarves, they can have an advantage in resources; with night elves, they shall overcome us in use of magic; and gnomes provide them machinery that intercepts our developments" the Banshee Queen continued.

"Every passing hour, their abilities and methods surmount, all while the Horde seeks comfort in outdated traditions" Sylvanas criticised, unafraid of the differing opinions of her witnesses. "With the assistance of the forsaken and the goblin cartels, only now has the Horde found a means of combatting the Alliance's otherwise unchallenged monopoly" she continued. From the seats, the Forsaken began cheering, while the Goblins merely chuckled and snickered amongst themselves.

"Orcs, Trolls, Tauren; all following the same path to destruction and dragging other races with them" she added, "All because of what they had been lead to believe by their forebears". A silence fell from these bold words, "Unless we expand our horizons and especially our methods of warfare, the Alliance will inspire the future whilst we desperately cling to our pasts".

Her eyes shifted to the defeated orc before her, Varok huffing as his breath was steadily restrained. "Varok was expecting a fair fight… he restrained his methods and limited his abilities" she stated, "that is the reason he lost so easily". She looked back up towards the crowd and shouted "Following traditions is Varok's greatest weakness… the _Horde's_ greatest weakness" she once again criticised, "It has made you all predictable, inefficient; and the Alliance is sure to take advantage of those limitations".

A majority of the audience began trading concerned glances at this prospect, likely imagining scenarios and possible outcomes. "Unless we can abandon these weaknesses, we are little more to the Alliance than rats in a sewer" she described viciously, "And they shall use their versatility to seal off every attempt to escape we make and leave us to drown in the floodwaters".

A long silence followed as Sylvanas turned her eyes towards the incapacitated usurper, reaching to hold both ends of the wire in each hand. "Your fate is your own to make now, Varok Saurfang" Sylvanas explained, "I will offer you a choice". The crowd and Varok listened closely, "I will let you free, and you shall serve under me to enforce the methods you had shunned". The wire tightened, "Or, you can die a martyr, knowing that _your_ Horde shall be preserved". She sneered as she looked upon the docile breast beneath her.

"Either way, your fate shall represent the future of the Horde".

Silence lingered as all within the Ring of Valor awaited an answer, the suspense of the moment driving all to the brink of insanity. Fear and confusion combatted in the hearts of all those whom were present, especially within Sylvanas herself. This was her ultimate gamble, her destiny and all that she had strived for, hinging on the decision of this orc. Would this orc truly lead his people blindly towards their destruction just for his opinions?

Was his honour _really_ that important to him?


End file.
